Happiness comes from moving toward something. When you run away, ofttimes you bring your misery with you.

Power rises to the top like cream and dominates the weak with cruelty disguised as -- and often even believed to be -- benevolence.

Come for your revenge at last, elf?" Royce stepped forward. He looked down at Thranic and then around the room. "How could I top possibly top this? Sealed alive in a tomb of rock. My only regret is that I had nothing to do with it

The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you.

You think he’s still alive?” Royce asked, nodding his head toward Alric. “Sure,” Hadrian replied without bothering to look. “He’s probably sleeping. Why do you ask?” “I was just pondering something. Do you think a person could smother in a wet potato bag?” Hadrian lifted his head and looked over at the motionless prince. “I really hadn’t thought about it until now.

If this keeps up, we’re going to own Melengar,” Hadrian mentioned. “What’s this we stuff?” Royce asked. “You’re retired, remember?” “Oh? So you’ll be leading the Nationalist advance, will you?” “Sixty-forty?” Royce proposed.

When you expect nothing from the world - not the light of the sun, the wet of water, nor the air to breathe - everything is a wonder and every moment a gift.